Revenge
by Devil's Eye
Summary: When Keladry of Mindelan leaves Court after being denied training to be a knight on her probation, she returns seven years later with a new name and a new purpose. This time, she's got revenge on her mind. But what about falling in love?
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Hmm. This one might turn out really good.  
  
  
  
Revenge Chapter One: Newcomer By: DarkDracon0  
  
She looked at the sights around her. It hadn't changed. Not at all since seven years ago. She narrowed her eyes at the memory. She had a mission to carry out and she intended on making a good job of it.  
  
  
  
"Page Keladry. You are probably already aware of why I have summoned you." Her throat went drier than when it already was. "Yes, my lord." He looked at her, his hawk-like eyes piercing into the depths of her very soul. His long fingers began to drum on the surface of his neatly arranged desk top. "I have evaluated your performance this year and have come to a decision." Kel braced herself. "Your fights with the other boys and nearly constant tardiness to the mess hall is not what it takes to become a true knight of the realm. You have failed this year on probation." Kel suddenly felt a constriction on her chest that made it difficult to breathe. Her muscles went taut with uncontrollable fury. She turned enraged eyes to him. "You are unfair and unjust in this situation, Lord Wyldon. The proclamation that was made ten years ago permitted girls to train, yet it never mentioned a probation. Why did you choose to put me on probation? I may never know. But let me tell one thing to you. I can be a warrior, whether following the Code of Chivalry or not. I will return one day and I will show you what I can really do." With those words that hung heavy in the air, she whirled around a left the room. She never looked back.  
  
Keladry of Mindelan disappeared later that year; rumor had it that she returned to the Yamani Islands. She was never seen by any that came from the Eastern Lands and continues her absence.  
  
She had laughed when she had heard of that. She was indeed in the Yamani Islands. Not hiding though. She was being secretly trained by master trainers. She was training to be a perfect assassin and the art of hand to hand combat. To be a silent killer and, at the same time, practice the warrior arts of the knight. She was to show the world what she could really do. Here was her first mission. And the mission she had wanted so badly for so long that she could barely contain herself. To assassinate the king of Tortall.  
  
They had picked a new identity for her. The widowed Countess of Cebris. Lady Araine de Fidar of the Yamani Islands that accompanied the Princess Shinkokami to Tortall. Shinkokami was to wed Prince Roald, the Crown heir to the throne of Tortall. She was to leave him alone and focus on the king. She was a strange woman with a strange name. They had told her that the Lady Araine's mother was Tortallan and the father only be part Yaman. The perfect reason why she knew so much about the Eastern customs and have a Eastern name. She was to be introduced to Court as a new lady seeking a husband. At the same time, she would figure a way to kill the king without casting suspicion on her.  
  
She was to be introduced next week for the first ball. While she had time alone, she was to disguise herself without having anyone from her time at Tortall recognise her. If she succeeded in killing the king, she would have her revenge. 


	2. Countess

A/N: I got so many reviews for this fic that I've decided to continue it. Possible Joren/ Kel thing. Tell me what you think. Oh, and the reason i didn't update was because my computer broke down. Well, here's chapter two! Enjoy! Toodles!  
  
  
Revenge  
Chapter 2: Countess  
By DarkDracon0  
  
  
Araine, or Keladry, was in her rooms, sharpening her stiletto. Tortall was on the verge of going to war with Scanra. Again. Stupid, she thought. Write a treaty that should keep peace for a few decades and then attack unawares the moment it was over. That would be the best way to rid the Scanrans and conqueor their land. It would benefit. King Jonathan has grown lazy over his throne. Just as well.   
  
If Tortall went to war with Scanra, she could kill the king and everyone would think it was a Scanran assassin. She would get away easily. Excellent timing, Kel thought, pleased. Once the king was dead and the prince trying to regain order, they would escape to the Yamani Islands. It was all perfect. When a knock on the door came, Kel slipped the stiletto back into its sheath and hid it in the back of the drawer by her bed. As she expected, it was Harik. He was dressed in a servants' garb and plain faced. Plain enough and insignificant enough for no one to remember his face. He was one of the best spies in the Eastern Lands. She shifted to allow him into her room. He moved quietly in as Kel closed the door behind.  
  
"My lady, I don't think I need to brief you, but I shall." Kel looked at him steadily. "Go ahead." Harik nodded and began. They spoke in low voices, though Harik had the Gift and had protected the room from any eavesdroppers.  
  
"You shall be known as the widowed Countess Araine de Fidar of Cebris. Your husband, Lord Rauthor, died in a storm aboard one of his ships. You have accompanied the Princess Shinkokami to Tortall and to find a husband for yourself. You have no children and was wed to Lord Rauthor for but only a year. Understood so far?"  
  
"Yes. Continue."   
  
"The rest about Araine, you can make up, as long as you remember all you have said. Try to kill the king in a moment when you're alone with him. Make sure you do not leave any witnesses still alive. And also be sure that-"  
  
"I know all of that already, Harik. I was trained properly, I assure you." Harik looked pleased and smiled at her. "Forgive me my lady. Of course, Lord Rath would have trained you properly. What will you be using to kill the king?" Kel walked over to the drawer and took out the slender stiletto.  
  
"This." She handed him the weapon. Harik studied it, he had a good eye for good toys. The stiletto was sharp and light. The handle was plain, made of sturdy wood. It lookd like any weapon a commoner or thief would have had. A good choice for an assassination. Ordinary and untraceable. He handed it back to her.  
  
"Don't let that knife be found in your room."   
  
"As I said, I was trained properly. Don't worry about me. I'll have my revenge." Harik was shaken when he left her room. Her eyes, he thought. They held predatory look. They resembled a hungry lion's eyes. Or lioness.   
  
  
  
There would be a ball tonight. Kel shrugged into a kimono, really letting her maid, or comrade, do the work. Laine, her maid/comrade, nodded. "You look just like any of the other ladies. You're expected to wear the kimono the first few balls and then you can start to wear some of the Eastern fashions." Laine was to help her escape or help her anything if the  
need arose.  
  
"Laine, I really don't care what I have to wear during the stupid balls. All I want is to be the one to put a knife between the king's ribs." Laine, a very calm one and hard to anger, smiled.   
"You'll get what you want soon, my lady. In the meantime, try not to mention what you want to do with the king. Someone could overhear." Kel snorted. "The walls are made of stone. You reallly can't hear anything through that stone. The door is closed too. Along with that charm we have to sound proof this room everytime either you or me are in it. Everything's fine."   
  
"You know, you have to know the fashions. You wouldn't be a lady if you didn't know a whit about a dress and latest styles. I'm supposed to help you with that." Kel shrugged. "Alright. But I have to make sure none of the people who saw me during my time here can recognize me. Change my voice a bit, change the hair color and the way I walk." Kel rolled her eyes. "The way I walk, for Mithros' sake."   
  
Laine laughed and started to arrange Kel's hair. "What were you thinking when you wanted to become a knight? The Lioness may have become a knight, but she disguised her own sex and was treated as a man. You knew that the other boys would have treated you differently since you don't have to pretend you're a boy."  
  
"I really don't know what I was thinking, but I wanted to be like the Lioness. All my brothers were knights, why not I give it a try? It couldn't be as hard as training with the emperor's ladies." Laine shook her head. "No, it couldn't be harder for any lady that was trained in the Islands could easily defeat a knight if she knew what she was doing. It's not all brute force as the Eastern fighters believe that is the advantage."   
  
"No. It wasn't that hard." Laine finished with Kel's hair and stepped back. "Kel, were you tall when you first started as a page?"   
  
"Not overly." Laine smiled again, a litte relieved. "That's good. Your height would make you stand out more, but no one should recognize you for your height." Kel didn't bother to look at herself in the mirror. She left her room, heading toward the center of noise in which ballroom. After much wandering and asking a footman where the ballroom was, she walked through the huge doors. She didn't remember the palace that much. It should come back to her soon enough.   
The herald stationed by the door ogled her for a moment before she said, "Araine de Fidar, Countess of Cebris." He announced her, still glancing back at her as she entered the ballroom.  
She looked over the nobles that stood together. Several of them wore gaudy clothes that could hurt one's eyes and overdressed. She could see a few knights clustered in a small circle, the center probably being a pretty new lady. The thrones at the front of the ballroom were empty. The king and queen hadn't arrived yet. Kel walked over to a corner of the room, studying the way the ladies gossiped and their reactions to some juicy pieces of information. Kel arched an eyebrow when she heard someone saying that the Lioness was refusing all orders and didn't even want to either speak, listen , or even look at the king since the crazy Mindelan girl left. She felt a muscle pull her mouth back just for a hint of a smile before she snapped it back under control.   
Kel was starting to fall asleep when she felt a hand tapping her shoulder. She straightened her back before turning to look at whoever had just tapped her. He had blond hair, nearly white, and icy blue eyes. Kel managed to stifle her gasp of surprise. Unless she was wrong, she knew who this man was. Only one man could be so devastatingly handsome: Joren of Stone Mountain.  
  
A/N: I finished this chapter, finally. Hoped you liked it. Possible Joren/Kel, possible Neal/Kel, or Cleon/Kel (ew). You guys tell me. r/r! 


	3. Sir Joren of Stone Mountain

A/N: Sorry about the long wait. Life and school is getting in the way. I'm thinking about revising Rekindled completely over. I know it's my first fic, but it really sucks. Rekindled is probably one of my most worst piece of literature to date. Dante is wonderful, I have happen to have fantasies about him and my friends regard me as a complete loon. Oh well. They'll get over it. Here's chapter three! Toodles!  
  
  
Title: Revenge  
Chapter Two: Sir Joren of Stone Mountain  
By: DarkDracon0  
  
Joren surveyed the large ballroom with growing dislike. Gods, it was hot in here. Too many people. He searched the room again, looking for a familiar face. And narrowed his eyes when he didn't find any. Why the hell had the king made him come and not any other knight? Not even idiot Queenscove was here.   
  
  
Joren nudged his way through the press of bodies and toward a balcony after evading several invitations tossed at him. But there was a lady standing near that balcony. Nearly right in front of the doorway. Her back was slightly turned to him and she was looking idly at the far wall of the ballroom. Glorious streaked red, blond, and brown hair, all arranged in the elegant style of current Court fashion. Kimono, sky blue colored. Must be one of the Yaman ladies. Her back was straight. It looked as if someone had pressed an invisible broom handle against her spine. He couldn't quite see her face, but he imagined that it would be elegant, like her outfit.   
  
  
He had never seen her before. But why did she seem so familiar? She was a bit too tall. He was willing to bet that she stared down at most men. Men didn't usually like it when the lady was taller than he was. Which might explain the reason why she was standing alone in a corner. He strode toward her, with full intent to make small talk and maybe send her on her way. He wanted to be alone.  
  
  
When he was behind, he cleared his throat. And waited. She was still looking at damn wall. He cleared his throat again. And she continued to ignore him. Joren felt slightly annoyed. It was loud in the room, but she should have heard him. He reached his hand out and tapped her shoulder.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Kel froze when she felt the hand touch her shoulder. How had anyone noticed her? She thought she could blend in as the other Yaman ladies were doing right now. She took a deep breathe. Remember, the Eastern men were different from the Yaman nobles. But simpler and easier to understand. Or she always thought so. Lord Rath had said so himself. She could still remember the words.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Keladry, the Eastern men are but simpletons. Give them a woman to flatter them about their masculine superiority, their good looks, and they will believe themselves gods. You smile at one of them, they will believe you are teasing and want them to be your next lover. Its all based in primal instinct. Almost like horses. The stallion smells mare, he will bolt and overcome any obstacle to mount her. They are ruled by bodily desires and lust. Use that against them and you will win control over them. They think that women are somehow stupid and do not know anything, but how to please. They are wrong. Any man with no respect for women is but a fool."   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
She turned. He had icy blue eyes, blond hair that was nearly white. And barely managed to stifle her small gasp of surprise. She knew only one man that was so handsome. And she thought he had faded away in her memory like everything else almost had. Joren of Stone Mountain. Still devastatingly handsome. And still looked cold and arrogant. Kel carefully schooled her face into cool and passive features and looked at him full in the face, feeling like an angel leaping to hell.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Joren felt that jolt when she turned around. It was quick and violent, like lightening striking him. Her face… It was so familiar. Why wasn't his memory picking out the name for her if he felt as if he knew her? Slashing cheekbones, straight, delicate nose, dreamer's eyes. Full, sensual lips. He knew her. He was sure of it. He was sure he had met her before, or at least seen her. But even if he knew her and couldn't place her anywhere in his memory, why was there this nagging feeling that almost demanding him to find out who she was?   
  
  
He mentally shook himself. Staring at her wasn't going to help find out who she was. It would probably make his life more of a living hell. He was often the object of gossip at Court. There were rumors that his father was dying and since he was the heir, it meant more offers of marriage. Of course, the rumor about his father was not at all true. Unless he missed his guess, Lord Burchard would be in bed with Glenna, a serving wench, back at Stone Mountain, this very minute.   
  
"Greetings, my lady. By the kimono you are wearing, are you a visitor of Tortall?" Joren felt almost awkward for a moment. He was never awkward. He had a reputation for being making words like bastard sound like a compliment.  
  
"Yes, I accompanied Princess Shinkokami from the Yamani Islands to Tortall to meet the royal family." Kel had said that automatically. She wondered if it sounded as false as her ears had told her.   
  
"My I have the pleasure of knowing your name, my lady?" 


	4. Araine de Fidar

A/N: I'm getting really into this fic. I think I'll just ignore Rekindled for a little while and get back to it when people start threatening to come after me. Toodles!  
  
Disclaimer: Yes, I'm writing a disclaimer though we all know it's a waste of time since everything belongs to Ms. Pierce. I'm simply borrowing her characters. I promise to give them back… unscathed. I swear! They'll be fine once I've wiped them down and brainwashed Kel of any ideas to kill Jon. Though I'd like to keep her hating Jon and plotting to kill him… So appealing to all those who despise the bastard, no?   
  
  
Title: Revenge  
Chapter Four: Araine de Fidar  
By: DarkDracon0  
  
She very nearly said 'Keladry of Mindelan". And wanted to smack herself for it. How many times had she drilled the name 'Araine' into her head? And for what? Nearly blurting it out loud in a room full of people who thought she was hiding her face in the Yamani Islands.   
  
"My name is Araine," Kel managed to say. " Lady Araine de Fidar, sir knight."   
  
Joren kept back the urge to cock an eyebrow. He had seen her eyes go blank for the smallest moment before answering. And then her eyes flickered. Most wouldn't have noticed either of these things. Her eyes were expressive even though they were now carefully cool to him in a polite manner. Was that a hint of deceit that he had just seen?  
  
" I am Sir Joren of Stone Mountain, at your service, Lady Araine. I hope you are enjoying the ball so far as well as your stay in Tortall." This should be the standard sentence that he would say to any foreign lady.   
  
"Yes, but I must see more of your Corus. It sounds like a wonderful place to be, so I heard from rumors." How ridiculous that last line sounded. Corus was probably populated by more thieves and cut throats than all the words she ever uttered in her life. And she recognized the name Stone Mountain immediately after she connected the word, money and rich, to it.  
  
"Corus is quite beautiful in the summer and fall." In the summer, there was mud everywhere. Summer rains created all dirt into mud and the sun baked the mud. The result was not particularly pleasing to the eye. But she didn't know that.   
  
"I look forward to visiting your city. Perhaps I'll go and buy a small trinket as a souvenir." This conversation was getting boring. She wanted to be left alone and perhaps blend in more. Speaking to one of Tortall's richest heirs was going to undoubtedly draw attention to her. And that would not be a good thing. "Perhaps I will see you again soon, Sir Joren."  
  
He knew a dismissal when he heard one. He wanted to arch an eyebrow down at her. No, that wouldn't be possible; she was nearly at eye level with him. But how dare she dismiss one of the most skilled and famed knights of Tortall? Didn't she realize that she could be a possible choice of marriage to him, one of the richest men in the realm… He managed to stop that train of thought, both surprised and amused with himself. He was becoming conceited and arrogant.   
  
"I hope to see you again, my lady." He brought her hand up to his lips, brushing them lightly on the knuckles. He noticed calluses on her fingers when he picked her hand up. Strange. No lady worked. Only the servants did that. The Yamani ladies trained, he remembered. He'd always had contempt for women who played men's sports. They weren't fit to do so. They were supposed to stay home and bear her husband's heirs. It was only proper. And he nearly sneered when he remembered that female page who thought she was good enough to come along and become a knight. He had already long ago forgotten her name.  
  
  
The ball quickly ended with no more confrontations with the pages she knew eight years ago. But she had noticed the curious looks from the other seasoned nobles. She escaped to her rooms as soon as the Court had deemed the minimal amount of time that should be spent in a ball.   
  
The air in the corridors were considerably cooler and she walked at a moderate pace, wanting to cool down. She eyed the paintings and suits of armor that adorned the stone walls, giving the impression that the castle was old. And it was. She idled at one particular portrait, no doubt of a long dead Conte. He looked so alike the current king that it was nearly remarkable. Kel suddenly felt an urge to make a rude gesture at the protrait, She grinned, amused with herself.   
  
She walked to her room, closing the door softly not wanting to disturb Laine if she was sleeping. There was a lone candle in Laine's room and Kel knew that she was reading, despite all her explanations that if anyone saw her reading, they would be suspicious. Any maid of a lady's wasn't expected to know how to read, much less write. Laine also kept a small diary of sorts. Kel wasn't sure what Laine wrote in it. She didn't think she wanted to know. But she did occasionally wonder if Laine only wrote down about her thoughts and or if it was reports detailing what they both did during the day.  
  
Moving quietly, she shed the kimono and draped it over a chair standing beside a small mahogany writing desk. She stretched, feeling her muscles pull and loosen. She slipped on a night gown that Laine had laid out on her bed and crawled between the sheets. Pulling the cover more securely around her, sleep soon took her.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
Joren sat in the armchair in front of the fireplace, his legs stretched out long and crossed at the ankles. His back pressed against the chair, he watched the flames dance, casting shadows into the corners of the room. Tapping his fingertips lightly on the arm of the chair, he thought of the mysterious countess. Lady Araine. She was hiding something. He knew it. Felt it right down to the marrow of his bones. Oh, she was good. Very good.. Perhaps one of the best he had ever met. Only her eyes betrayed what she was feeling. But he already knew that both men and women could lie. They would meet again.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
  
Kel woke before dawn, a habit she couldn't quite shake off. Getting out of bed quickly, she washed her face from a basin of cold water and threw on a pair of breeches and loose shirt. She tied her long hair back and surveyed her room. She would have to exercise within the room. She couldn't risk the chance of anyone seeing her in a practice court with a glaive. It was best if the Tortallans thought she didn't know one end of a sword from the other. Laine was probably still asleep, so Kel quietly rummaged through her closet for the glaive she had managed to smuggle in. Finding it still propped upright at the farthest corner, she took it out and stood at the center of room, balancing it in her hands. She began her exercises.   
  
  
Laine woke at the familiar sound of Kel's glaive whipping through the air. Kel could wield the thing so fast, anyone could hear it whistle as it cut and hacked at invisible enemies. She was a light sleeper, a trait that had kept her alive from the pirates that had attacked her village.   
  
She always wondered why her mistress bothered to keep on training with the glaive. It was so big and heavy, not a lady's weapon, though the Yaman ladies used it and used it well. She preferred the dagger. Small, light, and ever so deadly when used correctly. She knew that Kel would kill the king with a dagger. A glaive would have cast suspicion on them. Usually, only the Yamans used a glaive, not an Easterner.   
  
Getting up, she walked to the door that separated their rooms and looked in, watching Kel move. Her mistress was fast, faster than many of the men here in the Eastern lands. Kel moved carefully, making sure she wouldn't hit anything as she practiced. Sweat already gleamed on her skin, her muscles stretched and tensed, but moved automatically. She had worked herself the same way several times before.   
  
She stopped, already knowing Laine was there, watching.   
  
"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" Laine smiled, approving. Most would not have noticed she was there. "Yes," she replied, still smiling. "Very well. They make decent beds, the Easterners."   
  
"Good. Now that you've rested, would you mind fetching me some hot water? I need to wash this sweat off." Laine moved to comply, grumbling slightly under her breath. She was back soon with two maids hauling in buckets of hot water. Kel only gestured toward the basin she had used. Working quickly, the maids took away the basin and came back with it empty and clean. Laine dumped the hot water into the basin and left, dismissing the maids as she did so. Kel stripped and and climbed into the basin, scrubbing at her skin as soon as she was in. She lathered the sweet smelling soap over herself and washed off the sweat, brooding silently.  
  
Today, they would be touring the city. Dress again in a nice kimono and look interested. But really, she would be looking for the quickest route out of the city without being seen or caught if such a situation ever arises. And always carry a weapon when out in the city after dark.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Kel wanted to grimace when she saw the sidesaddle. She carefully composed her face into cool lines and stepped daintily into the sidesaddle. She had to appear like the pampered lady. She must endure. But by Mithros, why a sidesaddle? She hated the things, always had. She could remember the first she sat on one and slipped right off the other side. She'd landed on her tailbone and her backside had hurt so much, she couldn't sit down for nearly three hours. After that incident, she had vowed that she would never ever ride in one, much less go near one. The regular saddles were much safer. And here she was, sitting in the sidesaddle and waiting for the moment where she would slide off and disgrace herself.   
  
Mithros help her.  
  
"So we meet again, my lady." Kel felt herself turn and stare into the brilliant blue eyes of Sir Joren of Stone Mountain.  
  
  
A/N: OMG!! I wrote beyond two pages!! Aren't you all so proud of me?! Now since I worked so hard for that nice long chappie, how about you all go and write nice long reviews? ;) 


	5. Ride in the City

A/N: Still ignoring Rekindled…. Maybe I'll get back to it in a week or two. Or maybe until people start threatening me with strange and abnormal email explaining what they will do to me unless I get back to writing… Enjoy this one! Toodles!  
  
Disclaimer: Being human and not wanting to lose my pitiful collection of money, I am writing a disclaimer. Nothing belongs to me, I am merely borrowing the Ms. Pierce's characters for my evil purposes… I will return them all nice and clean, I promise.  
  
Title: Revenge  
Chapter Five: Ride in the City  
By: DarkDracon0  
At his words, Kel jerked, unbalanced herself, let out a short scream and toppled off the saddle. She felt large, strong hands catch her from behind and shove her back into the saddle. Snatching the reins back in one hand and holding the saddle horn with the other, Kel turned her wrath on to Joren. "You made me fall, you bastard!" Joren raised his eyebrows.   
" Such inelegant words from a lady? I expected thanks and gratitude since I just saved your lovely kimono from utter disaster." Kel was nearly speechless with anger and embarrassment. Joren only smirked when she didn't answer back.  
"No showering me with your thanks and gratitude? Well, then." Joren yanked her back against him and whispered silkily, "You're lucky that no one is out here this early." Kel could feel his breathe caress her ear and nearly groaned. His hands held her arms, steadying her, as her back was pressed against his chest. She was hanging half on the saddle and half on him. And for reasons that evaded her, she didn't mind at all. What was wrong with her? She could feel her pulse jumping and leaping in bounds.   
  
Joren smirked again. He could see her pulse pounding in her throat. He leaned in and kissed the soft spot just beneath her ear. Kel's breathe whooshed out as Joren touched her weak spot. It was almost the hardest she had ever done in her life, she said softly, " Let go of me."   
  
Joren had to admire her willpower. No romance for this one. Still, at least he could enjoy her for a little while. With her head resting against his shoulder, he slid his hand from her arm to her down her side and on to her hip. His other hand held her by her other arm. And he smiled when she twitched at his touch. "As I oblige you, my lady," he murmured into her ear. He pushed her back up to the saddle.   
  
Kel almost fell back, feeling incredibly dazed.   
  
Joren turned and walked to his own horse, feeling absurdly pleased with himself. He shook his head and checked the saddle. And heard the giggling and chatter that could only belong to a group of excited gossiping ladies. Putting on another smile, Joren turned and waved to them, gesturing toward the waiting horses. And being trained very properly by Lord Wyldon, he helped every one of the ladies on to her mare. And tried to look polite even as he felt the beginning prickling of irritation. Doing a head count, Joren found one missing. Annoyed, he rolled his eyes. That idiot Queenscove hadn't arrived yet. Late. Again. Probably carrying on with his beauty sleep. Stupid fool. Why a healer was coming with him, he didn't know. And why he would be leading a group of simpering, foreign ladies into the city, he didn't know either. Queenscove was only coming probably because he would get a chance to ogle the women, Joren thought sourly. And maybe to heal a broken nail or two.   
He hoped to the Gods that Queenscove wouldn't make a fool of himself. Then he wouldn't be able to explain to the king why the ladies laughed at every man that came into her orbit after this.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
That bastard, Kel thought furiously. Gods, she would just love to kick his pretty face in. But her fondest wish had to be denied of her as a noisy group of ladies walked out. More horses waited placidly by another stable boy, the reins held tight in his hand. The ladies all climbed on to their horses with Joren helping all of them, but they didn't move. Frowning, Kel counted how many there were in the group. Five Yaman ladies and Sir Joren. Who else were they waiting for?   
  
Swallowing her pride, she called out, "Sir Joren, who are we waiting for? All the ladies are here!" He didn't answer, nor did he turn to her, the bastard, merely waved toward the palace. Kel swiveled her head. There, a man strode out. Dressed in a similar way as Joren, he was tall, with brown hair and a widow's peak. Emerald green eyes were framed with long lashes and a straight nose. She knew him. She craned her neck, trying to see his face better. The man walked toward them and swung on to a horse standing by Joren with the ease of an experienced horseman.  
  
"Good morning, ladies," he said, flashing a white toothed smile. He certainly takes care of his teeth, Kel thought. "I'm sure you all have met Sir Joren of Stone Mountain. I am Sir Nealan of Queenscove. We will both be leading you out to Tortall's capitol city, pointing out particular landmarks and such. We hope that you will much enjoy the sights." Neal… Sir Nealan know. She remembered him. The tall, lanky boy who had been both her sponsor and friend when she was a page. He had grown. Kel smiled, watching him flirt with one of the ladies. He always did have a weakness for a pretty woman.  
  
Soon, with much more giggling at those handsome knights, they were off through the palace gates. I'm doomed, was Kel's last thought.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Spending close to two hours in the city pretending to be interested in everything that came by her way was really very boring. Kel could almost feel her brain shut down from disinterest. She had already found out the quickest and surest route out of the city without getting caught at the dead of night. Now, all she had to do was smile and endure the hot weather along with the chatter. She'd rather take on a mob of Scanran raiders armed with only her glaive.  
  
"Sir Joren, can we stop at this stall? Oh Mithros, look at that necklace! Its beautiful!"  
  
"No, look at that one! Oh dear, such workmanship!" Yes, she'd give anything to leave now and never come again. Damn, the sidesaddle was uncomfortable. If she managed to survive this godforsaken trip, she was never going to set foot in this city again only unless she was ordered to. Or unless she had gone raving mad.  
  
"Hello. Dare I hope that you are enjoying this?" Kel, surprised, looked up. Nealan of Queenscove had fallen back to ride beside her, his face crinkling in good humor. Apparently, he was enjoying this very much. Maybe he had gone raving mad, too. How much he had changed, she didn't know. That wasn't good. Did he recognize her? She doubted the boy eight years ago could remember her, but he was a mage and their capabilities were as unpredictable as a hurricane. Giving his emerald eyes a quick search for any traces of recognition, she settled (or tried to) back into the sidesaddle.   
  
"Yes, I am enjoying your city. Despite the heat, I find it very interesting." Neal threw back his head gave her a full-throated laugh. She should have been insulted, but she wasn't. Waiting for him to quiet down, she absently cast her eye over a few of the merchant stalls.   
  
"You know," he said, still sounding amused, "when you said that, I didn't believe you for a second. You looked so miserable, I think I took pity on you and decided to keep you company." Kel froze. He saw through her lie? He saw what she was truly feeling? Dear gods, was she that easy to read? Neal, misinterpreting her look of panic, said confidently, "Don't worry, there are other ladies just like you. They also don't like the city that much."  
  
It was in that instant that Kel found that she liked him. "I feel much better knowing that I'm not alone. How do you like your city?" Neal laughed again and responded, "I like it very much when the thieves aren't trying to rob you blind. They are famed for being the best in Tortall. After all, the richest nobles spend their time right here in Corus, many of which shop in the city."   
  
They spoke for several more minutes before Neal excused himself to help one of the ladies climb down from her horse to look more closely at an overpriced necklace. Kel sighed and only glanced at the stalls. She felt absolutely no interest in spend her nobles in useless frills. Maybe a new cloth for her blades without anyone seeing her buying it but that was all. She sighed. It was going to be a long tour.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Joren tapped his finger against his thigh impatiently, annoyed with Queenscove and the silly chatter of the excited ladies with him. His head was starting to pound. Annoyed and even slightly angered, he pressed his fingers to his temple and tried to ease the ache. Damn it, wouldn't the gods be at least merciful and strike him down to end his pain? But no, that was too much to ask…  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Oh dear Mithros, we're going back! Yes… I'm saved… Kel thought happily. Neal had just announced that they would be heading back to the palace. And she wanted to nudge her mare forward and gallop back to the cool stables or to her room where she could practice with her glaive or just simply sleep. Ah, what beautiful and glorious thoughts… And they would all be denied of her. Damn. If she did indeed follow through with her desires, her cover would be blown. Damn it. Damn it all to hell. She had to appear the complete opposite of who she really was. She wanted to scream her wrath and frustration. Ad they rode back to palace in a achingly sow pace until Kel thought she really would scream. So damnably slow they were going. As they rode through the palace gates, a servant rushed out to greet them, whispered something to Joren (The blond bastard, Kel thought) and led him away. Joren left ithout a second glance, something Kel didn't blame him for. She'd do the very same if she were him.  
  
"The king's private study?"  
  
"Yes, milord. His Majesty said it was urgent and wanted to speak with you in private," the servant replied, gently knocking on the handsome mahogany before it was opened by the king himself.  
  
"I brought him as you asked, Your Majesty."  
  
"Excellent. Thank you, Timon. If you please, Joren, come in, come in." Timon left and Joren walked through the door, only glanced at the surroundings of the room. It was dark, filled with old, moldering books and leather seats and a large wooden desk. A small fire burned in the hearth, giving the portraits adorning the walls an eerie shadowed illusion since the windows were covered with burgundy velvet. "Sit down, Joren. Make yourelf comfortable. There's some water on that tray by the desk." Joren sat and sipped at the cold water, his eyes narrowing at the king. Whatever he wanted him for, it would undoubtedly be important, else they wouldn't be alone without any servants, nor would they be holding this meeting in the king's private study.  
  
"What is it you sent me for?" King Jonathan IV sat behind the desk, sighing as his body sank into the chair. "Straight to the point, are we? I suppose I should have expected that of you, especially one of your caliber." Joren tapped his fingers against the armrest in impatience. "Well, what is it? I could well be doing something else more importantly than lounging in your private study."  
  
"Such as?"   
  
"That is not any of your business, if you would so kindly leave my personal life alone." Joren's sarcastic tone had no effect on Jon. "Alright then. Sir Joren, do you recall the Red Dragon?"  
  
"The crime syndicate? Yes, many underworld people know it. Still running smoothly, I believe. No spy has been able to infiltrate it as of yet."   
  
"Yes, you're quite right about it. And do you know who the leader of the Red Dragon is?" Joren's eyes narrowed even more.  
  
"There is no leader. The former leader was Varik Rathor, a Scanran, who was captured some decade or so before in the last battle of the Immortals War. He was funding several of Ozorne's armies and rebels as well as providing some of his own men."  
  
"Again, you are correct. However, there have been spy reports from the Yamani and Coppter Isles as well as from Tyra, Tusaine and Galla that there is still a leader in command of its operations. And you know that Varik Rathor isn't dead. He had escaped from confinement seven years ago. He is still free but no one knows where he is."  
  
"It is possible that he's controlling the Red Dragon from somewhere. Even I don't know where he is, but I have a feeling that he's hiding out in the Yamani Islands." Jon jerked his head up, stared at Joren. "The Yamani Islands? We've searched there countless times as well as warned all the people of him. There have been no reports."  
  
"You now that that's irrelevant. Whether or not there have been reports makes no difference. Rathor is smart, cunning. He's famed for those qualities. He has the Gift, he's well capable of changing his physical appearance for a short time. After all, he's an exiled black robe."  
  
"True, but we need some sort of base to look-"  
  
"You mean something to hold hope on to that he isn't there but somewhere else. You keep doing that and you'll never be able to catch him." Jon sighed. "You're right, of course. Yes, its a strong possibility that Rathor still holds the throne of the Red Dragon, but recently, there have been more and more reports of a possible assassination."  
  
"Of?" Jon sighed again, looking much older than he really was.  
  
"Me." Joren arched his brows for a moment before bursting out laughing. "Oh gods," he managed, wiping tears from his eyes. "That's nothing new."  
  
"I'm glad that you're finding this amusing."  
  
"Very. This is nothing new. You do know that Rathor loathes you more than anything?"  
  
"Of course. But he's already sent his assassin. And this one's supposedly very good. Amongst the best. Rathor trained this one personally." Joren stopped laughing.  
  
"Rathor trained him personally? Now that's interesting. Goes against his profile. Rathor prefers to stay cold and distant from his agents and spies. If he's trained an assassin personally, than this one's bound to be very good at what he does. Could possibly have the Gift. And we might as well assume that this assassin has already been planted. If we can get this assassin first, we can get Rathor." Jon nodded.  
  
"Correct. Which is why I"m assigning you to the job. I want you to find the assassin before he can get me. With him, we can get Rathor as well as valuable information on the Red Dragon agents and operations." Joren crossed his arms over his chest and stretched his legs. "I, at last, have something to do. I'll need all information you have so far. Anything and everything."  
  
"Right. You'll begin this assignment with the aid of anyone you wish. However, this must be kept underwraps. Everything must be done in secret. If you have to go underworld, then you shall. But keep in mind that from there, I cannot help you." Joren's eyes flashed a brilliant blue, a predatory look. "Understood."  
A/N: How'd you like it? Oh, I kinda borrowed the Red Dragon thing from the anime, Cowboy Bebop. I delayed, prolonged, and ignored it for long enough. I am back. I had to go to a funeral out of country, so please don't get mad at me. Don't. I'm depressed enough as it is. I don't want to be contemplating suicide. Okay…. Just wait a few days for the next chapter for both Rekindled and Revenge… *waves hand in a vague fashion* excuse me as I go back to the drawing board. 


	6. Tortall's Underworld

A/N: *mumbles incoherently behind a huge stack of paper* Must finish, must finish, must finish…. You get my drift. Revenge is turning out very good. Rekindled is…. Let's not get too much into that… Yes, I agree with many people that Joren would have died in the Ordeal whether or not Kel was there, however, this IS A FIC. Meaning that I can do whatever the hell I want with Tammy's characters. Besides, I only thought to try a hand at Kel/Joren fics. This is a first. Well enjoy this chapter as always! Toodles!!!  
  
Revenge  
  
Chapter Six: Tortall's Underworld  
  
By: DarkDracon0  
  
Joren made sure his clothes appeared not from a noble's wardrobe but from a very rich underworlder. Meaning that he did resemble a nobleman but tucked in were knives and various torture toys that were the current fashion. And he well knew how to use them all with skill and precision. A stable boy waited for him outside, holding the reins of his own gelding, Cantor. Cantor snorted and reared his head back to greet his master. He hadn't taken Cantor to ride as often as he had before and the giant was over seventeen hands of barely restrained power.   
  
Climbing quickly into the saddle, Joren rode into the city.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Kel was tossing her dagger. Only tossing it into the air and catching it skillfully. Quite a habit for a supposedly proper lady. Leaning against the wall by the window, she peered out through the draperies. The window faced the gardens, all very alluring as well as beautiful in the full moon. The room was dark, the way she preferred it. No candles, only the comforting darkness. She knew it would always comfort her, as it had before. Kel's eyes darkened.  
  
Moving silently, she lighted a candle and sat at the writing desk. Wetting the quill with ink, Kel began her report on the creamy parchment.   
  
To: LR  
  
From: KM  
  
Everything is on schedule. No interruptions or recognition among the knights have occurred. Stone Mountain has taken a suspicious interest in me, but it is doubtful that he recognizes me. Route through the city has been established. All is well.   
  
Kel stared at the neat writing. Yes, everything was well. If things continued to be well, she would get her revenge very soon.   
  
Carefully folding the message, she knocked on Laine's room.  
  
"Yes, my lady?" came her voice, heavy with sleep.  
  
"Report to the lord." Laine opened the door, took the message and nodded at Kel. "How was your day, by the way?"  
  
"I'd rather take on a band of raiders than repeat it, much less recount it for your benefit." Laine laughed. "It was that good?"   
  
"Go back to bed and send the damn report."  
  
"Yes, my lady," Laine replied in a suspiciously demure voice that did not become her at all. Kel didn't even bother to comment. Laine grinned sleepily and closed the door after her. Kel walked back to her place by the window. Staring back out again, she wondered if she was really doing the right thing. Assassinating the king of a powerful country and throwing it into a potential civil war as well as civil unrest. That would cost lives. Many lives. Shaking off the thought, she wondered about Sir Joren. Who was he? Did he normally make such advances on ladies? She'd have to watch out for him. The last thing she needed was to fall in love.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Joren rode out to a large tavern, handing the reins over to a young stable boy and pressed a silver noble in his hand to ensure that Cantor wouldn't be relieved of his possession. Walking inside, he spotted numerous thieves and murderers, all wanted by the Lord Provost. There was a fire roaring in the fireplace and female servers walking about, showing off their bodies in a way that would ensure they would not spend the night alone. A few eyes turned his way, but he was quickly ignored. Knights and squires involved with the dark side of humanity was not uncommon. Neither were agents of the Lord Provost, whether their intentions were noble or not.   
  
Spotting him by one of the tables with a leggy server girl that could hardly be more than fourteen in his lap, Joren walked to his table, pulled out a chair and sat. The face who looked up from the server's breasts was clean shaven and young, but with the harden edge in his eyes that said he was a veteran in this world of darkness. And that face grinned. Keeping the girl in his hold, he roared out his laughter.  
  
"So the young god lives! Where've ye been Sir Joren? Are ye down with us bastards for business or a bed mate for the cold, lonely night?" Joren only smiled slightly. "Spheal, there's a matter of importance that I'd like to speak to you about."   
  
Spheal raised his brows at Joren's lowered voice and serious tone. "Speak your important matter here then." Joren fixed his eyes to Spheal's. "I would appreciate it if we spoke of it alone." Spheal stared at Joren before whispering something in the girl's ear and getting up. The girl scurried away. Gesturing for Joren to follow, they both went up the stairs to, what Joren supposed, Spheal's room. Spheal unlocked the door to his room and walked in, Joren trailing behind him. Joren only glanced at his surroundings. A window by the bed, a fireplace, mirror and wash basin. Of course, there were the little decorations and necessities that were obviously stolen, such as the candle holder made out of spun gold, the rich Bazhir rug that the makers rarely sold or perhaps the sword with diamonds and sapphires the size of a man's thumb joint that rested on top of the writing desk.  
  
Joren only looked at the sword and recognized it as more of a decoration or ceremony sword. It was probably stolen from Raven Armory's museum of old and famed weapons.   
  
Spheal waved his hand at a chair and sat down behind the desk with the sword in front of him. Joren sat, though he wasn't afraid of Spheal. Spheal was not skilled in the art of combat, more so in fast talking. He was a man who liked frills and showed off his collection of stolen artifacts, but he was a coward when it came to battle. Joren understood his weakness and there was a chance that he could take advantage of it. But for now, he'd settle for talk.   
  
"So, Sir Joren, what would trouble ye enough to have us speaking alone in my own room?" Joren glanced at the sword again. It was a beautiful piece of work… "You've worked before in the syndicates, haven't you, Spheal?" Spheal started, surprised.   
  
"The syndicates? What have ye got yourself into if your asking around about the syndicates? Ye know what they're doing now about curious eyes and questions?"  
  
"Of course," Joren murmured. So the syndicates were getting more cautious, more secretive than before. Most likely killing their own members from giving out any information. "So that would mean that you don't work with them?" Spheal shook his head. "No, its too dangerous to work with them. They want absolute loyalty and if ye can't give 'em that, they wither torture ye or kill ye. Either way, you'll meet your end."  
  
"Is that so…" Joren murmured again. Others like Spheal were smart enough to steer clear of the syndicates. It was obvious now that the syndicates disposed many of its members, enough to have others notice. "Do you know the Red Dragon syndicate?" Spheal's eyes widened now. "What are you getting yourself into?"   
  
"I'm not planning on joining any syndicate, if that's what you mean. But there's a matter of our king's safety at hand here, and I need to know more about the syndicates, specifically, the Red Dragon. About during the time the Immortals war ended with Ozorne's defeat, we found Varik Rathor, the head of the Red Dragon, on the battlefield. He was suspected of giving Ozorne supplies and his own men. He was taken into custody by the Lord Provost and sentenced to imprisonment.   
  
However, he escaped about three years later, with the aid of the Red Dragon. I've wondered where he would flee to, but the Yamani or Copper Isles was the best place. We've scored both areas and come up with nothing. So it could only be decided that he was in hiding and possibly planning retribution. We've word now that he's sent us an assassin, though we're not absolutely sure. Word has it that he's trained this one personally, which throws off the pattern we have on him. He's known for having many assassins in his employment, as well as training a few himself, but he usually has one of his men take on that task. He's never trained an assassin personally. This one is rumored to be the best, so we can only assume."   
  
Spheal's mouth was gaping in shock or surprise, probably both. "Well," was Spheal's response to the large flow of information. Despite himself, Joren smiled. "Are you aware of any leader controlling Red Dragon? If there is one, it could be Rathor's puppet. However, if it is Rathor himself…" Joren glanced meaningfully at Spheal. "We'll have him."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Kel trained her eyes on the target, despite the darkness, she knew her aim was right. Her body tensed, muscles coiling like a snake before striking. Her fingers tightened its grip on the tip of the blade. And the question on her mind rang out.   
  
Am I doing the right thing? Of course she was. She was eliminating the man who killed one of her own, a man that was twisted enough to send an innocent child to her death.   
  
Am I doing the right thing? This time, her stance faltered. With a growl of rage, she sent the dagger flying and didn't bother to look if she hit. She knew that she did.   
  
Am I doing the right thing?  
  
A/N: So how'd ya like it? Good, bad? I'd like constructive criticism, its gratefully appreciated. Oh, and sorry about the delay, Writer's block constantly plagues me. So the little ending was a bit of a psychological thriller. Who would have thought that Kel has a mental problem? 


	7. Practice

A/N: Enjoy.  
  
Revenge  
  
Chapter Seven: Practice  
  
By: DarkDracon0  
  
Kel snuck through the long corridors of the palace like a thief, keeping an eye out for any servants that would even be about at this ungodly hour. The sun wasn't even out yet, for Mithros' sake. Padding softly, she stopped at one of the practice courts and looked in, checking to see if anyone was there. And there was. A man stood at the center of the court, naked at the waist and sweating lightly. His well-muscled back to her, she goggled at the sight. The man shifted and moved and Kel could see that he was holding a sword in his hand. She felt a slight tingling at the pit of her stomach, feel her muscles go lax.   
  
Before she tear her eyes away, the man turned. It was Sir Joren. Kel felt her face heat with embarrassment at being caught staring, especially by Joren. Joren started at her for a moment, surprised. He hadn't expected anyone up. Remembering etiquette, he mock bowed to her and straightened and again, Kel couldn't help but stare at him. His chest was well defined, with chiseled muscles and strangely hairless. His golden hair was ruffled, giving him an even more provocative appearance.   
  
"Hello, Lady Araine. What brings you here at such an early hour?" Joren tried for cheerfulness, but even he could hear the false tone of his voice.   
  
As Kel searched for reasons and excuses, Joren called out again, " Perhaps a training session with the traditional Yamani glaive?" Kel's heart nearly stopped. Was she that transparent? She looked down at herself and realized it wasn't that hard to figure out. She was wearing loose clothes and soft boots, ideal for training. And she was a Yamani lady awake in the morning, so if one put two and two together… Hell, Kel thought, amused. I'm such an idiot.   
  
Stepping into view, she waved to him, struggling to be casual and not remember the ride into the city. And not want to stomp his face in. Joren watched her walk to him, enjoying the view on her long legs. She was tall, mostly leg on her part, but there was nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. She was slender without being thin, her hair long and tied in a messy strip of leather. Kel walked past Joren to the rack that held staffs. She chose the longest and heaviest one, anything that was close to a glaive. She tested the staff thoughtfully. Not bad, Kel thought. Good balance, not the best, but this is a practice staff, not a real weapon.   
  
Turning around, she took a swing at Joren. He automatically blocked with the flat of his sword, so as not to damage the staff. Kel had to credit him for having fast reflexes. Not many men could block as easily when attacked by a woman without warning. Joren raised his eyebrows now, couldn't help but be impressed with the speed and force she had demonstrated. Very good, my lady, Joren thought.   
  
" I suspect you've kept yourself fit, Sir Joren?" Kel asked, letting the staff slide back into her hand and away from his sword.   
  
"Of course, my lady. A knight must keep himself in the best condition if he wishes to survive a strife with bandits," Joren answered, watching her move back to the rack of staffs and pick up another one. She tested it, and nodding with satisfaction, tossed it to him. " True, though many knights neglect that fact. Are you any good with a pole arm?"   
  
"Passable." Joren tossed his sword away and gripped the staff, switching to the warrior stance. Kel did the same.   
  
It was Kel who attacked first. Not forgetting the differences of weight and length of the staff to the glaive, she feinted to the left and lashed toward his legs, also testing him as she had tested the staff. Joren blocked with the same fast reflexes and jumped away. Circling each other, Kel went for his head. He blocked again, countered by jabbing toward her right arm. She shifted and he missed, throwing himself slightly unbalanced. Lightening fast, Kel whipped the staff around and slammed it up into his chin. His head snapped back and Joren's vision exploded with stars. Shaking his head to clear it, he brought his hand up and felt tenderly at his chin.  
  
He was lucky that he hadn't bit his tongue off, Joren though sourly. Kel watched from a few feet away, leaning on her staff and grinning. "Consider that your payment for the kiss," Kel called out merrily, feeling outrageously pleased with herself. Joren moved his jaw, just to make sure it wouldn't fall off, and glared at Kel. He had to grudgingly appreciate her skill with the staff. She was damned fast.   
  
Tossing away the staff he picked up his sword and gestured toward the sword rack, an obvious challenge. Kel obliged him. Picking up a sword at random, she walked to Joren and crossed swords with him. They stared at each other for a sliver of a second before both threw their weight into their swords. Their swords locked, Kel shoved her sword upward to free herself and sent sparks flying off the steel as it grated. Circling each other like before, there was the occasional lunge and parry. Joren was the first to move this time.  
  
Swinging the sword skillfully, he swung it down and Kel blocked. The force he put behind it sent tremors running up and down her arm, forcing it into a state of numbness. Kel broke away again and attacked, sweat dripping into her eyes. Like a dance, they both dueled, swords clanging and clashing. Joren swung his sword up again and brought it down hard on Kel's sword. A loud rending sound ripped through the silence of the room. Kel stared at her sword. The blade had fallen off and she was still holding the hilt.  
  
"I suppose this would mean that you won, Sir Joren. For my lack of checking that sword before using it," Kel said after a moment.   
  
"It was a good duel. You're very skilled to have lasted that long with me, my lady." Was that a hint of conceit she heard? The compliment sounded as if it pained him to say it. Probably did.  
  
Coating her voice with sugar, Kel grinned sweetly up at Joren and said, " Why thank you for the compliment, Sir Joren, even if it is conceited with a male bloated ego. I think I'll just excuse myself now. Good day." And she calmly walked out of the practice court with Joren watching after her in open mouthed astonishment and part insult.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Laine came down on her like a hawk. "Where the hell were you?! Gone at such an hour, I'm surprised that you look so calm and collected. Anyone could have spotted you!!"  
  
"Hmm. Someone did spot me. And did more than just acknowledge me." Laine was red in the face and looked ready to hurt someone, preferably her. She could tell by just looking at her enraged eyes.   
  
"Well?!"  
  
"Well what?" Laine's eyes nearly crossed themselves in rage. A little intimidated, Kel took a step back.  
  
"Don't play dumb with me! You half-wit, you know what was planned and you will follow it! Any servant could have seen you this morning and you know how serious that is!"   
  
"Everybody knows that Yamani ladies practice with weapons in the morning or something like that. It wouldn't really be suspicious if I was up this morning to practice-" Laine snarled at her, cutting Kel off.   
  
"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING, YOU ASS?!"  
  
"Uhh…"   
  
"YOU IDIOT, DON'T YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?!"  
  
"…Don't hurt me…?" Kel said in a small voice, now feeling much like five years old. Laine resembled her mother throwing a fit and this fact scared Kel witless. She searched around her mind frantically for an excuse to save her hide. Laine hissed at her like a cat, slanted her another evil look and stalked away to her room. She slammed the door behind her, causing Kel to wince at the sharp slap of wood.   
  
As she tried to calm her heart by taking deep breaths, Kel glanced towards Laine's room. She could hear Laine pacing and talking to herself, certainly not anything pleasant about Kel if she her angry voice was directed at her. Kel leaned guiltily against one of the chairs nearby, her hand gripping the back. I am an idiot, Kel thought. I should have already known Laine would be displeased about me being up so early. Displeased, ha! Rubbing the tips of her fingers against her temples, she could still hear Laine's furious movements.  
  
Deciding to ignore the morning's incident, with both Joren and Laine, Kel began to undress and call for a maid to bring a tub and hot water. Soon, she was submerged in hot, steaming water and lathering herself with strong lavender scented soup. Hopefully, the rest of the day would turn out better than the morning.  
  
A/N: Sorry for getting this out so late. I've been busy with my new Harry Potter fanfic. I'll try to get new chapters out more regularly. Read and review. You know how I dote on them. Oh, and if you see any spelling mistakes, blame them on me. And if this chapter is bad, blame that on me as well. I was in too much of a rush to look through or improve this chap. Sorry. 


	8. Breech

A/N: Wow, I haven't updated this fic… in years. Literally. I'm sorry. My explanation…. Truth be told, I forgot that this fic actually existed. And I also wasn't aware that I had this many reviewers… 121. Wow. Really. I had to reread it and get back to what my original plan for it was.

Chapter Eight: Breech

Title: Revenge

By: DarkDracon0

Kel spent the day with most of the Yamani ladies, chatting about gossip and this knight and this noble and oh wasn't he just charming, even for an Easterner… In other words, she was bored out of her mind. She considered briefly on hiding in her room, but Laine was there and they weren't exactly on the best of terms. So thus was how she ended up with the ladies. And she could only smile and nod and rejoice silently when the evening dinner bell rang.

There was another ball. When Laine spotted her walking in the corridor, she had dragged Kel back to their room and told Kel in a clipped voice to get undressed. Kel obeyed meekly and Laine helped her put the dress on. Once the dress was on, Laine also dressed her hair and picked out the jewelry that was appropriate for the dress. Though Laine did not utter anything other than orders, Kel knew that Laine had at least somewhat forgiven her for her slight misstep of the morning.

Kel walked slowly to the ballroom, enjoying the silence of the castle. As she approached the door, Joren also appeared around a corner. Neither saw the other before they got to the door. Kel struggled not to laugh at the sight of the bruise blooming quite beautifully under his chin. He glared at her, blue eyes looking almost comically insulted. She took a moment to look at him again. He was quite handsome, even beautiful, in his evening attire though the sour look contrasted deeply with it. Then he sighed and offered his arm, smiling slightly. "May I have the honor of escorting you, my lady?"

Kel blinked in surprise before accepting. "Of course." They entered the room together and stopped momentarily to allow the herald to announce them.

"Sir Joren of Stone Mountain escorting the Countess of Cebris!" A few heads turned, looking at the handsome couple before turning back to what they were doing. "How is that chin, Sir Joren?"

He resisted the urge to touch it. "Fine. Just dandy."

"It's not very noticeable. Though I'm sure people will question you about it."

Silence.

"Does it hurt to talk?"

"Yes. Thanks to you." He managed the wince that threatened to show on his face. "Dance?" He didn't wait for a response. He took her to the center of the room. As they passed by, several people stared, and were even brave enough to comment on Joren's bruise after he had passed. He would have snarled at them, only if his chin didn't feel like it was on fire. Kel saw this and wisely kept her amusement to herself.

Upon reaching the dance floor, he slipped a hand on to her waist and raised the other before they began to waltz. He dances well, Kel mused. But then again, he was always the golden boy out of all the others that had been taught under Lord Wyldon. The memory of Lord Wyldon brought a frown. She wondered if he was still the training master.

Joren gracefully led her through the dance until it ended. Most of the dancers and their partners separated and left the dance floor, but a few lovebirds stayed. If he was a gentleman and truly virtuous, he would lead the lovely Araine off the floor and allow her to dance with someone else. If he was not, he would have her dance with him again.

He was not feeling particularly nice to her tonight.

Her eyebrows went up when Joren didn't let go of her hand and waist. "Sir Joren, I believe etiquette demands that you allow me to leave," she started.

He gave her a look that would have curdled water. The music started again and she resignedly allowed him to lead her through another dance.

Once that dance was also finished, he finally let of her. "Thank you, milady."

She smiled. "It must truly and painfully hurt for you to say that. I appreciate it, sir knight. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."

He nodded in turn and left for the wine table. A true man, Kel said silently to herself. She accepted another dance from a young hopeful with stars in his eyes.

As soon as the dance was done, she thanked the young knight, who had chattered to her about his accomplishments throughout the duration of the dance. He immediately found another lady to dance with once she bid him good night.

She spotted Joren glowering in a corner and matchmaking mamas eyeing him with predatory looks. Other ladies were giving him similar looks and Kel almost felt sorry for him. Almost. She waved at him.

He bared his teeth back in a snarl.

Aw. She smiled back.

* * *

Joren could feel all the eyes of seasoned matchmakers on him and nearly shuddered. No longer was he a man or person; no, he was now a prize. 

Mithros help me, he thought silently.

And then he spotted her. Just looking at her made his chin ache in memory. He resisted the urge to rub at it.

She waved gaily, obviously enjoying herself from that distance. He wished that she was here, in front of him, just long enough for him to wrap his hands around her pretty white neck and squeeze. He wouldn't squeeze too hard. Only enough to make her turn blue.

Alas, he didn't blame her for it. He had challenged her and fair was fair.

His hands twitched.

But he could fantasize.

Suddenly, the night didn't seem all that bad.

* * *

Kel rubbed at her temple, tired and weary. The party had gone well; if being bored and overheated was some sadistic-minded person's idea of well, then it went _very_ well. Joren of Stone Mountain did not approach her again, nor did anyone of interest. Neal of Queenscove had spotted her and asked for a dance, though she could tell that he was rather enamored with one of the Princess's ladies, Lady Yukimi. She felt no alarm bells go off in her head as he asked about the Yamani Islands and her interests.

Afterwards, she had spent the night wandering through the crowd, effectively eavesdropping in on conversations that may suggest any news or rumors about the Red Dragon. Again, there was no sign of anything that anyone might know and she was relieved that plans were proceeding smoothly.

Now all she had to do was wait.

She almost reached her door until she felt a hand grip her arm. Or the hand would have gripped her arm had she not turned, grabbed the wrist of her would-be assailant and twisted it back. She knew the corridor was empty, but quickly glanced around to make sure there was nobody watching.

"My lady." His voice was soft so that it did not carry through the corridor or let anyone in their rooms hear. Kel let go of him and quickly opened her door, dragging him inside. She closed the door quietly behind her and locked it before moving to a drawer and taking out a small crystal, spelled against eavesdroppers and negated any present listening spells. She had picked it up during the time she went to the marketplace.

She finally faced Harik. "What on earth were you thinking, meeting me like that in plain view?!"

Laine entered the room through the screen door connecting both their rooms. Her eyes sharpened when she saw Harik.

"Why are you here? Have you news that is so urgent enough for you to meet us here?"

Harik yanked the wool cap off his head. "Of course. It is most urgent. It seems that our Lord's anonymity has been breached."

Kel stiffened. "Speak. Now."

"Someone has been asking around in the city, especially in the underground parts, where information can be bought. They've been asking about the syndicate. I've contacts who confirm this. They've seen the exchange. I've already sent a message to our Lord. He should provide us with new orders to accommodate this new player."

Kel sighed. "How soon?"

"Within the hour."

"Do you think anyone in the palace suspects? Perhaps he was ordered by the king or his spymaster."

"Perhaps. I am looking into it. I will have more information later."

Laine crossed her arms. "I do not doubt what you have gathered so far. Is the syndicate in any danger?"

Harik shook his head. "No, I don't believe so. We've kept ourselves well hidden and I doubt this man can find anything of use about the syndicate. However, if he does dig further and find something, our reserve plan must be put into place. You are both aware of it?"

"Or course. How is the state of affairs in the palace so far?" Kel asked.

"It is all quiet. The servants speak of nothing, but the Grand Progress and my listening spells in the council room have not revealed anything new. I will place a new listening spell in the king's study once I have finished finding a way to null other protective spells inside. It is be difficult, but it is nearly done."

Laine nodded approvingly. "And how was the party?"

Kel shrugged. "Nothing of interest."

"The same when I was there," Harik said.

"Has he found anything of importance?"

"I need to look further, but I do not believe so."

"Then all is going to plan."

"Did you happen to see the man? The one who is asking about us."

Harik scratched his head. "I did not see him, but my contacts say he is fairly well-known in the city. A knight of the realm, I believe."

"A knight? Strange, I thought detective work was for the Lord Provost."

Harik shrugged nonchalantly. "I find it hard to believe as well. Most knights are up north or helping to prepare the rest of the realm for the Grand Progress. He could be acting under directs orders of a higher council. That is unlikely, but still a possibility."

"Knights are not known for their investigative skills. However, it is still urgent all the same. Every breach such as this can be prevented before it explodes in our faces. Excellent work, spy," Laine said.

Harik bowed his head. "All who work faithfully and loyally for our Lord need not praise from him, but only his guardianship as the head of our syndicate. I will keep in contact once I have received orders." He left quietly.

Kel rubbed at her head again. "Nothing too bad, at least. The party was a bore. Help me get out of these clothes, will you?"

Laine complied. "I wonder who this fool knight is. No matter, he shall be taken care of."

"Yes. He will be."

* * *

King Jonathan III sat in his private study, reading the reports of activity in the Scanran-Tortallan border. The war was escalating into something more than what he needed now. Bad timing was all it was and a couple of stupid, overfed Scanran warlords, he thought crossly. He tapped his fingers against the hardwood of his desk. For now, all he could do was wait for the next Scanran move. He didn't want the Emperor to think that the Princess was in danger in a warring realm. Nor could he send any more troops; he needed them for the Grand Progress and to protect the visiting ladies as well as the nobles traveling with them.

Jon muttered a curse. He took a sip of wine from the glass sitting upon his desk. Then he heard a knock on his door. "Enter."

Joren strolled in, showing no signs of respect or rank for his king. "You called?"

Jon waved for him to sit down. "Did you enjoy the party?"

"I enjoyed it as much as a bite from a rabid dog."

Jon glanced at him. "Good to see that your attitude toward social functions hasn't changed. I want your report."

Joren stretched, yawning. "Well, I finally got something worth working around for. It wasn't boring at least."

"Glad to hear it. Your report."

"Right. From what I've gathered, the Red Dragon syndicate hasn't died or faded away. It's still much alive and with increased activity. They got pretty much nothing on Rathor, but I'm still looking into it. People are still shaking in their boots when they hear his name, so I'm going to need a little financial help with that."

Jon raised a brow. "Financial help?"

Joren propped his legs up on the edge of the desk. "Yeah. It's a lot faster if I've got gold nobles falling out of my pockets. I'm not paying for it. I'm serving the Crown, remember? I act as an extension of you in this investigation."

Jon shook his head. "I'd love to meet your sources. They'll get rich to save their own king's hide."

"And some like gold more than their king. One of the world's greatest mysteries, eh?"

A/N: I hoped you enjoyed this latest installment of Revenge. Read and review because without it, I'll wither away and die. Suggestions to where this story may go are open as are criticism.


End file.
